Page 60 of Wild For You
“Okay, maybe closer to 85 percent.”
“That’s more realistic.” She nodded, sipping her water.
“Anyway, you dealt with me, and look at where we are now,” I pointed out.
“That’s true,” she said, filling her fork with all the slivers of cucumber she could find in the salad bowl, and I made a mental note to grab extras from the garden next time I was at the farm as she moaned around that bite.
“And second, if being a bad parent was genetic, I’m pretty certain there would be a lot more assholes on this planet.”
She nearly choked on her glass of water. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Do you think you’ll tell the father?” The question had been on my mind since she took the pregnancy test. Would he be hands on? Would he want Kelsey back after realizing his mistake? Or would he be the complete opposite and abandon his child like he did their mother?
“I know I’ll have to, but I don’t know when or how. And he isn’t even the one I’m most concerned about.”
“Your mom?” I guessed, and she nodded.
I knew the woman was a poisonous individual in Kelsey’s life, and she’d likely use the baby to her own benefit. From what I’d learned of the woman, she only cared about herself.
“You don’t have to tell her anything if you don’t want to.”
“She’ll find out when I cut her off completely and she shows up at my apartment raising hell.”
“You could just stay here.” I shrugged as if it was no big deal, when really, I wanted that to be her decision more than anything else in the world.
“Here?”
“Ashfield. I can’t think of a better place to raise a child.”
Her face was wistful for a moment, and then she shook herself, my heart sinking. “I can’t. I need to get back home. My life is in Nashville.”
Finishing my beer, I reached over and stroked a finger along the back of her hand, which clutched at her glass of water. The condensation was pooling along her top finger and dripping over the rest of them.
“Not your whole life, Kelsey,” I rumbled low.
She swallowed, the sound audible across the table. “What are we doing, Andrew? If Rory found out…,” she whispered, letting the repercussions of our actions hang in the air.
“I don’t know, but I don’t want to stop it. I’m not sure I could if I tried,” I confessed, and we both grew quiet.
Once we finished our meals, we worked together to carry everything back into the kitchen. Kelsey refused to let me load the dishwasher, even though she did it most nights when she cooked as well.
Leaning against the wall, I watched her work, imagining how she’d look in a few months with a swollen belly. I could picture her gently humming to the baby or rubbing her hand across her skin as she spoke gently to them.
I could see it all, and I wasn’t completely terrified. In fact, I wasn’t scared at all.
“Kelsey,” I called out her name, and she instantly stilled. Glancing over her shoulder while she held the big bowl in her grasp, I shook my head for her to stop. She immediately placed the bowl back in the sink, turned off the faucet, wiped her hands on the dish towel, and slowly shuffled toward me.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, her hands reaching for my arms.
“No, it’s not. I need you.”
“Wh—? What do you mean?”
I reached out and pulled her closer, pressing our bodies so close that not even a slip of paper could come between us. “I want to eat dessert now.”
“Oh.” She looked over at the countertop, confusion marring her features, until she felt my hand travel across her hip and over her ass, where I squeezed the lush cheek through her dress. “Oooh.” Her eyes went half-mast. “Andrew,” she moaned, and I fastened our mouths together, my tongue immediately exploring hers, as she rocked her hips against me.
“I want to taste you, Kelsey,” I growled against her lips. “I want to feel you come in my mouth and on my cock.”
